


discarded into freedom

by Hierophantastic



Series: to be sublime [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Azula (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Azula (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Azula (Avatar)-centric, Azula is not a bender, Family, Fire Nation Royal Family, Gen, Happy Azula (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, One Shot, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Pai Sho, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Canon, Ursa (Avatar) is a Good Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierophantastic/pseuds/Hierophantastic
Summary: When Azula is eight years old and has yet to produce a spark, her father stops her firebending training. It turns out to be one of the best things to ever happen to her.
Relationships: Azula & Ozai (Avatar), Azula & Ursa (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: to be sublime [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782151
Comments: 22
Kudos: 405





	discarded into freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Let Azula Be Happy!

Azula’s father gives up on her the day she becomes eight.

She was born on the summer solstice, when the sun was at its zenith. It’s a fact Azula has been reminded of by her father since the day she was born. It’s the reason she started her firebending training at six, despite having yet to make a flame. It’s the reason her father used to look at her with such hope and expectation, an expression that has been slowly morphing into disappointment and annoyance.

It’s the reason small red marks start to dot her skin, when she is months into her training without producing even a spark. “Examples”, Father always calls them. “So you know what fire really feels like.” 

Mother merely calls them training accidents, as she furrows her brows in helpless frustration and applies salve to her skin. She knows speaking the truth would help neither of them.

Zuko doesn’t call them anything. He doesn’t know they exist, and Azula isn’t planning on telling him. He’s one of the few in the palace who thinks she’s still capable of anything, and she’d like to keep it that way.

Her birth date is also the reason her father takes her to the training courtyard on her birthday and doesn’t show her a new form as a gift, but simply says, “This is your last chance.” And then he leans back to watch her.

She knows what he means. If she can’t produce fire at eight years old on the day that Agni is closest to their spirits, it is unlikely she ever will.

Azula’s form is perfect, or as perfect as possible for an eight-year-old. She chooses a basic one as difficulty is not the deciding factor at the moment. Her stance is relaxed but balanced, left foot slightly further forward than her right foot and hands raised in preparation. Azula breathes to calm her nerves and the panic that started up in her at her father’s words.

And then, her fist shoots out in tandem with her breath, quick as a viper.

Nothing happens. Not even the slightest puff of smoke or the tiniest spark appears. Panic and shame curl up her throat and she _doesn’t_ cry, but it’s a close thing. Again and again the girl punches and kicks the air, switching from basic forms to advanced ones to a complete flurry of movement motivated by nothing but her desire to _burn._ They all have the same result as every single one of her training sessions so far had, that is to say, nothing at all.

Mother comes looking for her in the afternoon, and it’s only then that she realises Father isn’t watching her anymore. He probably left after her first punch.

 _He’s not coming back,_ Azula realises, staring at her hands. Her fingers ghost over the inside of her left palm, where the red imprint of her father’s thumb from last week is still vaguely visible.

She… doesn’t know how to feel about that.

**\----**

The rumour mill picks up on it quickly. 

It’s a surprise to them, because the Fire Prince never let anyone join when he trained his daughter, not even his son. He must have thought she was worth spending his time on.

“How do you know he didn’t teach the young Prince as well?” a cleaning girl asks the chef who had spoken, curiously.

“If Prince Zuko had known what his sister was learning there, he wouldn’t complain about it so much.” The chef shrugged his shoulders. “Not that she learned much of anything, it seems like. Firebending forms won’t do much good if you’re not a bender.”

The cleaning girl hums in agreement, then frowns. “It’s odd, though. I could swear her clothes smelled of smoke after her training. Sometimes her sleeves were even charred right through!”

For a moment the chef stops stirring. “Best not to talk about that,” he murmurs, then restarts.

“What?” the girl asks in confusion.

“Just don’t talk about it. She’s done training, so it hopefully won’t be a problem anymore.”

For a moment longer, the girl blinks slowly. Then her eyes widen and her hand flies to her mouth. “You don’t mean-”

“Just don’t talk about it.”

“She’s eight-”

“Don’t talk about it.”

Another servant walks in and finally the girl goes back to her own chores. She leaves in silence, but there’s a distraught expression on her face. The chef sighs despondently and hopes she won’t go and accidentally get herself executed for insinuating the royal family abuses their children. 

He didn’t need to worry so much, about her at least. The next day, another maid sighs happily about the fact that, with the Princess’ training sessions stopped, she doesn’t need to replace any more burned clothes.

The rumour mill picks up on it quickly.

**\----**

“Zuko, my son,” Father says once breakfast nears its end. It is enough to attract the attention of everyone at the table. “From now on I will personally oversee your training.”

Zuko blinks, shock and elation on his face. Azula represses a grimace at his open expression. _Did he not pay attention during the lessons in court politics?_ Then he glances at her, briefly, and a wave of envy rolls through her as she imagines how smug he must be feeling. She keeps quiet.

“Yes, father,” he answers happily, and it stupefies Azula how he cannot see father’s reluctance to invest time in him. Her brother frowns. “Why now, though?”

“Because my heir will need to be perfect,” father says. Perfect. The word reminds her of slipping on wet stone, of hot fingers digging into her arm, of graceful and precise movements that always fail to produce flames.

 _I would have been his heir,_ Azula realises. All she missed was the fire.

When breakfast is done and father tells Zuko to follow, Azula goes the other way. Zuko turns and watches her confused. “Aren’t you coming, Azula?”

Azula stiffens. “And why would I do that?” she drawls coldly.

Zuko just shrugs. “Maybe you’ll learn something new.” 

Mother would have stepped forward, a placating speech probably prepared, but she is still in the dining room, debasing herself by conversing with one of the servants. So Azula barks out a mocking laugh. “And what could I learn from watching you? I know more forms than you _and_ know them better, and I can’t even bend!”

Zuko’s eyebrows turn downwards. He’s always quick to anger. “You don’t need to be so mean!”

“Well, you don’t need to be so _smug,_ Dum-Dum! You do realise Father only wants to train you because training _me_ won’t be of any use. How disappointed he must be, that you are the only option available,” she sneers at her brother, who has been steadily growing angrier, and wonders whether Zuko will explode first or if mother will intervene. She’s leaning towards the first option, until a voice calls out.

“Azula! You will not talk like that to your brother.” 

Surprise flickers over Zuko’s face and Azula is fairly certain hers reflects it. Father had reappeared and was now staring at her in disapproval.

Father had never raised his voice at her. 

“Father-” Azula begins, but the man turns away from her, focusing on Zuko. 

“Come, Zuko. I thought I told you to follow.” He doesn’t spare her a second glance as he once more disappears down the hall, this time followed by her brother. Zuko looks back once with confusion on his face, then rounds the corner. Of course he’s too stupid to realise what their father is doing.

Azula doesn’t wait for her mother, as Zuko did when their father left with her for training. She simply wanders off and doesn’t think about where she is going. She doesn’t think about anything for the moment.

**\----**

She sees a few servants on her way. They bow, as is appropriate, but there are no shivers of fear, no signs of the poorly hidden terror that used to take hold of them when she or her father approached. They aren’t afraid of her anymore.

One of the kitchen staff calls her ‘poor girl’ when they think her out of earshot, and the Fire Princess bristles against the pity and has to stop herself from grabbing the nearest torch and shoving it into the insolent woman's face. It would only be a humiliating imitation of the real thing. Instead, she walks on, proudly keeping her head high and shoulders straight.

Her entire life she has been her father’s favourite. _Agni’s_ favourite even, if her birthday means anything. And now she was…

Nothing? Is that really how she wants to finish that thought? She deserves the throne, her father had told her once. It’s her birthright. What does _bending_ have to do with it?

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh. _Only everything. How can you be Fire Lord if you can’t even control fire?_

Lost in thought as she is, she doesn’t notice the tiles under her feet make way for dirt until a nearby splashing grabs her attention. _Oh great,_ Azula thinks, _I really am turning into Zuzu._

Somehow, she ended up at the turtle-duck pond. 

Deciding she has nothing better to do, the Princess sits down at the water’s side, taking a vicious sort of joy from the way the ducks hurry to get away from her. At least the stupid birds still fear her, and happily she starts to search with her hands for a nice rock.

“Azula?” 

Her mother’s tone is curious at her presence, but not surprised. Azula hates it, because even _she_ was surprised to end up in this garden! Why wasn’t Mother?

Her hand closes around a rock at the same time as her mother sits down next to her, a loaf of bread in her hands.

“Would you like to feed the turtle-ducks with me?” Mother asks gently.

“Depends. Can they eat stone?” Then she lifts her arm, ready to throw the rock at the little duckling that had been lured out from behind its mother by the smell of bread. A hand softly wraps itself around her wrist and, startled, Azula yanks her arm away harshly.

Mother stares at the old scar encircling her wrist with sadness. “I’m sorry. I forgot about that one,” she says quietly. Azula looks away when her mother tries to catch her eye, only to find her reflection in the water, which is not a much better sight. Just a girl - or a child _,_ really - shaking with bottled up emotion. Frustrated, she throws the rock at her mirrored face.

It achieves nothing, the water settling quickly. What else did she expect?

When her mother wraps an arm around her shoulder, impulse takes over and she buries her face in the woman’s shoulder. Dampness meets her, but when she pulls back briefly to tease Mother about her tears Azula realises she is the one crying.

 _Shameful,_ Father would say.

Mother rubs circles on her back, her reassuring voice whispering “It’s alright, it’ll be alright,” in her ear. 

Azula isn’t sure if she believes it. She’s not sure whether or not this is a shameful display of weakness, or if she should find another rock to throw at the turtle-ducks, or if - maybe - this is okay.

She’s not sure what Father would want her to do, because Father doesn’t really care enough about her to still want something from her.

At that thought she pulls back from the embrace and composes herself, as she _is_ still Fire Nation royalty, and even if she wasn’t, standards exist. But Mother keeps a hand on her shoulder while she coaxes the turtle-ducks out of hiding with a handful of bread.

She’s nothing, she thinks, and the realisation settles deep in her very bones, heavy and stifling her with the futility of everything. Azula will never become Fire Lord, although that had been a distant hope to begin with. Neither will she ever have Father approve of her. 

She doesn’t have to cater to his wishes because it is a pointless endeavour anyway. 

And with that thought, the stifling blanket of nothingness turns lighter. 

“You’ll never be perfect,” her mother had once told Azula after overhearing what her father wanted from her. “People aren’t made to be perfect.”

Azula had disagreed with her, because why would Father punish her for failing to do the impossible? And besides, she is Fire Princess Azula, great-granddaughter of Sozin himself. She is better than ordinary people.

But she _isn’t_ perfect, it turns out. For Agni’s sake, she can’t even _bend._ And Father doesn’t care enough anymore to punish her for it.

“Are you bored, dear?” her mother asks, taking note of her silence. Azula looks at her for a moment, still reeling from her newfound freedom. “Would you like to play a game, maybe? I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you like to do to pass the time.” Mother smiles ruefully at her.

 _I have no idea either,_ she thinks. There had been school and Mai and Ty Lee, but when she still couldn't firebend at seven years old Father had forbidden her from going back before she could make a flame. She hasn't seen either of her friends since then. Still, a name itches at the back of her mind, one she has to move her lips a few times for before she remembers the proper pronunciation.

“Maybe Pai Sho?” Vaguely, she recalls her uncle teaching her and her brother the basics of the board game. It’s an old memory, the only thing she really remembers clearly being the way the wooden board had burned after Father found out how soundly Uncle was defeating both of his children. Azula hasn’t played much since then, but she thinks she remembers the basics.

Mother’s eyes widen and this time she _is_ surprised, but her mouth ticks up as well. It's a pleasant surprise, one Azula gave her, and a small smirk curls the girl's lips. “It would be my pleasure to teach you. Your brother doesn’t have the patience for it and I always worry the servants let me win on purpose.”

Momentarily, her mood sours at the mention of Zuko, the firebender. But Pai Sho is a game of strategy, so any distractions are quickly pushed aside once they arrive at Mother's room and she fetches the board and pieces. At first Azula wonders whether Mother is planning to let her win on purpose when she opens with a reckless gambit, so she decides to teach her mother a lesson about treating her as a novice. 

Mother easily wins. Wanting to figure it out herself, Azula does not ask her about the opening move she used. Instead, she simply picks up her lotus-piece and plants it firmly in the middle of the board.

Again, Mother easily wins, but privately Azula considers the fact that Father has not yet burst into the room to light everything on fire enough of a victory.


End file.
